fares, cool and collected as any of the habitual London riders. Her uncle was secretly as glad as her female relatives to see her come in safe and sound, but he took care to encourage her in showing herself off where the traffic was thick, as setting an example to other girls which tended to knock the bottom out of weakervesselism.
But, these little successes apart, she found, as he did, that the tone of society was adverse to them at present. Innovation was uphill work, it fell flat, met with but narrow sympathy and response. No wonder; for had it been otherwise, the grave political situation could hardly have come about—the common-sense of the nation would have prevented it. It was no time, then, for pioneers to make their mark; it was, rather, the jubilee of parasites, snobs, and swindlers, whom the apathy of the outside public allowed to have their own way, obstructing enlightened reformers, and fostering hollowness and pretentiousness everywhere.
The sitting of Parliament had been protracted into September on account of the crisis, the recess was to be for a few days only, and an autumn session to follow. The Premier, with his family, had decided to remain in town, that he might be within reach at this anxious time. So our heroine was about to return home deprived of her new bosom friend, when a diversion occurred. Among the acquaintances they had made at Lady Humnoddie’s receptions in Belgravia, was that of a Mr and Mrs Whyte, who owned a comfortable villa situated almost on the sands of the ocean at Bude, in the north of Cornwall. These people took a great fancy to the original young girl, and they invited her to go back with them to Bude for a month or six weeks. Lesbia, who was always glad of a chance to get to the seaside in bathing season, accepted gladly, and it was arranged that they should start for Cornwall the day before the others
